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Arto Nolan is the father's name; his son Alan strives to overcome his loathing and comprehend the man who abused him and beat his mother.
His father spent his evenings typing on his Remington. Later, Alan discovers his father had been working on his memoirs. He reads about Arto's ruthless work as an interpreter who not only translated but also led interrogations, tortured prisoners, and did not hesitate to murder.
Arto's passages are chilling in their detachment. He first describes how he was abused as a child by his own father. He later became an assassin. At first his targets were Japanese; after the occupation ended, he murdered Indonesians in the service of the Dutch, without question. The source of his loyalty to his overlords, from a country he had never seen, remains a mystery.
In this unsparing family history, Birney exposes a crucial chapter in Dutch and European history that was deliberately concealed behind the ideological facade of postwar optimism. Readers of this superb novel will find that it reverberates long afterwards in their memory.
540 pages, Kindle Edition
First published March 1, 2016
Mijn vader had een andere oorlog in zijn kop, een die niemand scheen te kennen in de stad, waar alleen gesproken werd over de Hongerwinter van 1944. Over de Joden werd gezwegen en de koloniën waren niet meer dan oorden waar inhalige Hollanders de Indonesiërs geselden en waar Hollanders inheemse meisjes zwanger maakten en halfbloeden voortbrachten voor wie men door de eeuwen heen vele benamingen had verzonnen. Kleurling, blauwe, klipsteen, liplap, lippertje, creool, sinjo, njo, nonna, nonnie, petjoek, serani, Euraziër, Euraziaat, mesties, poesties, kasties, toepas, cristietsen, Indo-Europeaan, Indo, Indiër, halfbloed, halfcaste, Indisch… om maar eens wat te noemen, en uiteindelijk in het naoorlogse Nederland ‘Indische Nederlander’, een term waar mijn vader graag aan vasthield en die ik nauwelijks uit mijn strot krijg.